DAMON
“Dame, I’ma owe you big time for this one, bruh,” Daniel said, as he handed over the tickets.
He’d called me about an hour ago begging for me to do him a favor that, honestly? Wasn’t that huge of an ordeal at all. Leila woke up feeling terrible, so he had to rearrange plans he’d had to hang out with JJR and one of his little homies for the day. They were supposed to be going to see our squad get whooped on by LeBron and company, then going to a park and working on some ball handling skills with Nico. All in all it would just take a few hours out of my day, so I wasn’t too stressed about it. I had nothing planned beyond hanging around the patisserie today, but Jami and Tyrel were more than capable of handling it. If anything pressing came up, they knew to hit my line. Saturdays tended to be one of our busier days, but with being open for a few weeks now, I’d been able to pinpoint our peak periods of busy and adjust the support staff for such. A few weeks we’d actually had to close early because there was nothing left to sell.
“It’s nothing, Danny. I was a little tight you ain’t invite me to the game with you and JR anyway,” I said, laughing.
“He wanted to bring one of his lil potnas, so you know how that go…”
“No doubt. It worked out though,” I said, snatching the tickets out of his hand as I followed him out of the door. The boys were waiting inside my truck, blasting some bullshit on my radio about all of their friends being dead. I climbed in and immediately switched the music over to 4:44. My Super Uncle coolness only goes so far and I’d be goddamned if I would sit through that mumble rap bullshit on our forty minute ride.
“Awww, Uncle Dame! We don’t wanna listen to this old school rap,” JR complained.
“Old school? Boy this damn album barely a couple months old.”
“Yeah, but only old people listen to Jay Z.”
“That’s not true,” his friend piped up, “I love Hov.”
“More than Lil Uzi Vert? Migos?” JR challenged.
“Absolutely. Hov, Nas, Big, Rakim…my moms raised me right.”
I stifled a laugh, “What’s your name again, kid?”
“Patrick,” he replied.
“Patrick can stay. JR, I’m questioning our relation and my brother’s parenting skills right now.”
“Maaaaan come on, Uncle Dame.”
Our conversation continued with me cracking jokes on them and them trying to put me up on game about some of the shit they were into. It had been a while since I’d had an extended period of time just chopping it up with my nephew and I was impressed. Both he and Patrick were articulate and thoughtful young men at a pretty young age. We talked about everything from music to movies to sports and they had strong, well-supported arguments for their choices of favorites at every turn. It made for an interesting ride into the city. Once we got to the arena and loaded up on snacks, I was persona non grata for the boys. Between eating and being hyped watching squad warm ups, they were in their own little world.
***
At half time, I decided to call Nico to make sure he was still down with meeting us at Pembroke Park after the game. Surprisingly, he answered on the second ring.
“Sup Daddy Daycare,” he greeted me.
“Hardy har, nigga. You still game for skills drills with the youngins this afternoon?”
“Yep, bring em over to Indoor Sports instead of Pembroke though. It’s hotter than hell outside.”
“Can’t have Tricky D busting a sweat outchea in these streets.”
“Chill…you tryna send ya future stepson home with heatstroke?”
“Step son?”
“Uh yeah nigga, was your head so far up his mama’s ass that night that you don’t recognize PJ?”
I looked over at the kid and all of a sudden it clicked for me.
“Yoooo, this is shorty’s shorty.”
“Uh, yeah nigga. I just said that.”
“Aight so bet, maybe I’ll hang out with y’all for a while. Drop the boys off at home when they’re through with you. You know…so you don’t have to go out of your way.”
“You ain’t slick, Dame. I peep your game.”
“I’m just looking out for a brother. Mama always said I was the most considerate of us all,” I laughed.
“Cool out. Aye, but if you sticking around you know that means you gon get put to work.”
“I had no doubt.”
“Aight bruh, see y'all in a bit.”
“One.”
The second half of the game proved to be more interesting than the first. We’d gone to the locker room with a thirty-two point deficit to the Cavs, but here we were in the final couple of minutes of the game only trailing by one. Both teams were going shot for shot, the lead changing every twenty seconds until the last possession. There were eighteen seconds left on the game clock and our point guard was bringing the ball up the floor. He shot up a three pointer and more than half of the arena was holding their breath as the ball seemed to float toward the hoop in slow motion. The ball swished through the rim, all net—leaving the Cavs less than three seconds to force up a shot or draw a foul. They were unable to convert and our squad left the floor victorious. Our car ride over to Indoor Sports was filled with the boys’ endless chatter about the game. I was in disbelief about the result myself, certain that we were gonna get washed.
By the time that we arrived at Indoor Sports, Dominick had cleared out one of the ball courts for our exclusive use. I guess that was the perk of being the boss man. It also helped that we were a few weeks out from league play; so most of the folks in here today were here for open gym or leisure. Having worked with both of the boys as their coach last year, Nico was familiar with their skill levels and designed a quick workout to build on their strengths as well as challenge them a bit. We spent the next hour running drills and playing a little two-on-two. Nico and JR made up one team, while Patrick and I were the other. We split one game apiece and after a fierce back and forth, Patrick and I came out as the victors of game three. I may not have been the former NBA All-star slash future hall of famer, but I held my own on the court and that kid Patrick? His ball handling skills were unreal. His precision was to be coveted by folks twice his age.
Post-gym session found us at Main Event grabbing a quick dinner and a few games before I’d be taking the boys back home. Our time at Main Event was short-lived as I soon was wiped out. Being up before 5am baking then nonstop movement with these guys had me bout ready to shut it all the way down before 9pm. We stopped by Danny and Leila’s to grab Patrick’s bag and drop off JR. Since Patrick lived moments away from the patisserie—where I was currently staying until renovations were done on the loft space I’d purchased—I figured I could drop him off instead of making his mother or Daniel have to get up to take him home. The ride was quiet, with Patrick knocking out shortly after programming his address into my GPS. I really had no reason to get out of the car once we’d arrived, but that didn’t stop me from following him to the door anyway. As he searched his backpack for his house key, the front door opened.
She was just as bad as I remembered, even with her hair wrapped and in a caftan that looked like it had seen better days.
“Hey ma,” Patrick said, shuffling past her.
“Hey babe. You have fun?”
“Yeah, the game was dope.”
I stood there like an idiot, expectantly, not saying a word.
“Hey…Darren, right? Thanks for bringing my baby home. I hope it wasn’t an imposition.”
“Damon…and it’s no problem. I didn’t live far and had to come this way anyway, so…” I trailed off, on a shrug.
“Shit…I’m terrible with names. Sorry, Damon. Either way, it’s appreciated. He wasn’t too much was he? I know how ridiculous the DJ and PJ show can get,” she replied, a slight giggle in her tone.
The amusement lit up her eyes in a way that I couldn’t help smiling in return.
“Nah, those lil dudes were all good. Yo…I wanted to let you know though, you’re raising that boy right. He was schooling my poor misguided nephew on the superiority of Jay Z to any of these so-called MCs out right now.”
That pretty ass smile lit up her face again, her eyes crinkling at the corners slightly.
“This is a pro-Carter household over here.”
I chuckled briefly before replying, “I support it. Hey…have you had a chance to get back over to the bakery since you crashed my opening?”
A brief flush of red covered her cheeks as she replied,” I still can’t believe we just walked on in…but actually, I went back in there this morning. Those chocolate hazelnut beignets almost made me propose to you when I saw you standing on the doorstep with my baby boy.”
“That good?”
“Almost as good as…” she trailed off, “…a game of tiddlywinks.”
“Tiddlywinks, huh?”
Her response was nothing more than a smirk.
“Well I don’t wanna hold you up, it looks like you were turning in for the evening,” I said gesturing to her attire.
She looked down as if she was unaware of what she was wearing and then laughed, “So you just let me stand out here running my mouth looking like I’m ready to go down to the schoolhouse and embarrass my boy for acting up. Wow, Damon…I thought this was the start of a beautiful friendship.”
“You fine as hell, ma. Even with that hole right over…your nip…heart.”
Patricia hurriedly clasped her arms over her chest in alarm and groaned.
“First time is free, next time I gotta charge,” she replied with a wink, turning to go into the house, “Good night, Damon.”
“Good night, Patricia.”
***
I walked into the back door of the patisserie straight into my office. As expected Tyrel had placed the receipts for the day in my outbox, along with the bank deposit information. Today was the first time I’d left he and Jami here alone to run the place. I had full confidence in their abilities to run the place, but was definitely surprised that I was the one who had to call and check in with them about halfway through the day. My nervousness was unnecessary as I took a quick lap around the shop to see everything in its rightful place. We would live to see another day. I locked up and headed to the small apartment space upstairs to finally lay it down.
That small interaction with Patricia had me keyed up. I couldn’t get a read on her and I didn’t want to seem too pressed, but I definitely should have at least asked her out. What’s the saying? Nothing ventured; nothing gained, right? I was buggin’. I didn’t have time for a woman like that. She deserved a man whose time revolved around ensuring she was content. With the bakery just getting off the ground, my leisure time was going to be scarce—a reason that I joined this site that my boy BJ was telling me about called JustOneNight.com. It was a place for…discreet hook ups. Its membership pool was carefully curated, filled with like-minded individuals who were seeking a means to an end.
I hadn’t checked my profile in the few weeks since I’d officially opened, but I wasn’t super impressed by the matches that had been curated for me so far. Not that the women weren’t gorgeous—because they were—but of the three that I’d met offline, exactly none of them and I had chemistry. BJ told me to persist, so I decided to give it another go. Might as well expend some of this excess energy that I’d absorbed from the short interaction with Patricia to see what was out there. Grabbing my tablet, I saw an email notification that I had five new matches on the site. I navigated to the app to check out the fresh meat.
The first woman looked old enough to be my mother. I had to double check my age specifications to make sure that I hadn’t somehow broadened the scope within which I was seeking companionship. My parameters were correct, so I clicked her profile to see her age. She claimed to be twenty-seven, but that had to be times two plus seven because she definitely looked…seasoned. Moving on, the second woman looked vaguely familiar so I went to her profile to see if reading about her would jog a memory. Many references to frogs and pearls and I knew exactly where I knew her from. She was one of my sister in law Leila’s very good friends—god mom to the nephew that I’d just spent the majority of this day with, in fact. I couldn’t unmatch with her quick enough. I didn’t need the mess of that interaction at all. The next woman wasn’t my type physically, so I quickly unmatched with her. No need in wasting either of our time with fake interest.
Woman number four was a woman with whom I’d been previously matched and we didn’t work out. Something must be off with the algorithm if she showed up again. Especially since I thought I’d blocked her. We never actually made it to the meet in person stage, just exchanged messages via the site, but some of her comments made me unsure whether or not she’d try to wear my skin if we were to meet in person.
Now all that was left was lucky number five. Her screen name was l0vedr0ught, which was interesting considering the nature of this site. Love was the last thing one should be seeking here, but who was I to judge? I clicked her profile so that I could see the picture in the miniature avatar a bit more clearly and…I’ll be goddamned. Pretty, even peanut butter brown skin, a red lip and a smile that put the shine of the sun to shame filled my screen. I clicked through the other four photos on her profile to see her in various dress attire—from formal to super casual. I laughed at my fortune and read through her profile. It was witty, filled with the right amounts of self-awareness and humor. I sent her a quick message.
I’ve got the perfect cure for that drought. –Bakerman